


Helping hand

by SteveM



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveM/pseuds/SteveM
Summary: For those who might be finding the world a tough place... I hope it helps even if only a little.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Helping hand

The grey skies raced by overhead driven by a stiff westerly wind, a threat of rain in the air complementing the rich, earthy smell of damp turf close by. A small copse of trees at the far end of National City Park sheltered a bench carved from a fallen trunk and provided a view over the rolling grass to the tall buildings that made up the downtown core. 

For Mickey this had always been one of his favourite places in the city. In the summer it was cool and he could spend hours here watching people coming and going, the sounds of laughter reaching up and lifting everyone’s spirits. In the depths of winter it took on a different beauty, a small oasis of solitude and a welcome break from the greyness of the city itself. 

Today though it brought no comfort. He’d hoped that the distance it brought would act as a buffer, numb him to the world. Instead it cut him adrift in the storm, isolation closing in on all signs to drag him under and drown him. He should leave, he knew he should… but his mind didn’t want to make the effort. What was the point? Leave, stay, the pain would be there just the same. 

He stared out at the world but didn’t see it. Oh the shapes were there, familiar to the point he could have sketched them from memory, but they didn’t register. They were just something to fill the scene, to rest his gaze on rather than close his eyes. He could, he could close his eyes… but blackness would be no better so why not just keep staring. Nothing lost, nothing gained. 

His hands were shaking he knew. They had been for two days now. It came and went but they were never still. His voice, when he had reason to use it, misbehaved. Sometimes it worked, more often it caught and stuttered as if his thoughts could no more make the effort to be heard than his body could to move. 

It took him a moment to realise the tears were falling. He hadn’t felt them start, barely noticed his body trembling until it curved his back and forced his gaze down from the horizon to the wood chips beneath his feet. He wished it could be a release but knew it wouldn’t be. For a strange moment he remembered crying as a child and wished he could go back there. Not for the memories - those were awful and the basis of so much pain and misery he would happily carve them out if he could - but for the sheer catharsis of those simpler days. Now the pain would stay, dig deep and wait out the flood only to rise again.

Suddenly and without any warning, a warm arm slid across his shoulders. He jumped in surprise, the rush of energy and adrenaline at the shock so unfamiliar to his system it took his breath away. He looked to his left and felt his heart skip a beat.

Sitting next to him was a very familiar woman. He’d never met her of course, almost no-one had… but everyone in National City knew her. Blonde hair spilling down her back, red cape snapping gently in the wind, the form fitting blue suit and, of course, the large red S on her chest. His eyes met hers and there was such warmth, compassion and sympathy looking back that it seemed to free up previously unsuspected depths of tears. His shoulders shook and he buried his face in hands, ashamed suddenly of being seen like this.

He felt something heavy and warm slip across his back, dropping down to his right and his hand automatically reached out and pulled it close, wrapping it around himself like a blanket. The arm across his shoulders pulled him closer and her warmth seemed to spread through his body as she just held him. No words, no actions, just… held him in a bubble of heat and security, shielded from the world. A single, comforting presence in a world he had become numb to lending him strength wordlessly, unconditionally.

The sob caught him by surprise and felt like it tore him open. Certainly it was as if a damn had burst as the tears were joined by a wail of misery and pain that came and went with his gulped breaths. A hand found his and wrapped around his fingers, holding him so gently he forgot those same fingers could crush diamonds.

Gradually the tears slowed and he realised, to his shock, that some of the stress, the tension had bled away with them. Not all of it, not by a long way, but he felt… lighter, somehow. That this time the tears had been more than just a mechanical response, that they’d carried some of his burdens with them. He slowly straightened and looked in wonder at the blonde with the small, sad smile.

“You looked like you needed someone.” Supergirl said quietly.

“I… I…. Thank you.” He couldn’t find the right words so settled on a question. “How? How did you…”

“I didn’t do anything. Sometimes we all need someone to lean on.” Supergirl said, reaching out and wiping away the tears from his cheeks. “And, maybe, a way to give ourselves permission to be sad.”

“Permission?” He asked, confused.

“We’re all so strong… we have to be to survive.” Supergirl explained sadly. “It can make it difficult to accept those times when what we need, more than anything else, is to be sad. To be weak and exposed. It can be the only way to start healing.”

“I… thank you.” Mickey said again. He knew he was repeating himself but just couldn’t think of what to say. He realised he was still clinging to her cape like a security blanket and sheepishly let go, the heavy fabric sliding across his back to lie neatly across her right shoulder. “Why?” He asked, a sudden burning need to know the answer hitting him like a sledgehammer.

“You were hurting. I could help. Why not?”

“But… but you’re Supergirl. I’m… I’m…. Nothing. No-one special.”

“You were someone who, in that moment, needed help. There’s no-one more important.” She said squeezing his hand. “Trust me, I know what that’s like.”

“You… you do?” He was stunned, the idea of Supergirl needing help just seemed unreal. Impossible, even.

“Of course. We all do at times. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be sad for as long as you need to be. Just, sometimes, we can need a helping hand to start climbing back towards the light.”

“I.. yeah, I know… know what you mean.” A clock rang out from somewhere in the city and Mickey realised with a start that they had to have been sitting there for over half an hour. “Oh god I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be… didn’t mean to take up your time!”

“It’s time well spent.” Supergirl said with a warm smile. She lent over and gently kissed his forehead and while it was ridiculous he would swear he felt a warmth flushing through him from that kiss, soothing his mind and body as it went. She gave his hand one last squeeze then stood up, looking towards the city.

“What’s your name?” She asked softly.

“Mickey.”

“Take care of yourself Mickey.” Supergirl said, rising into the air and slowly turning on the spot to look at him. She was showing off a little, he realised. But not for herself… for him. Making a show of this as one last distraction. “It does get better eventually, I promise.”

“You too Supergirl.” He said, still a little tongue tied. “Thank you again. For… for everything.” He gestured at National City and the world beyond it, unable to find the words to wrap up everything this woman had done for the planet and those living on it.

“You’re welcome.” She started to turn away then hesitated, looking back with a playful smile. “Do me a favour, it always sounds silly when I say it….”

Say it, he thought, say what? Then it hit him and he laughed. It was weak and fragile but laughter none-the-less. 

“Up, up and away.” He said and was rewarded with a wink from the Girl of Steel as she turned and flew surprisingly slowly into the sky.

He watched her go until she was lost to view amongst the rolling clouds that were rapidly turning dark and heavy. The threat of rain had become a promise and he flipped the collar of his jacket up and took a deep breath. He could, of course, just stay where he was, let the rain fall. But now, for the first time in days, he felt like there was a point to put one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t sure what that point was just yet but it was a start.

And, for today at least, that was enough.


End file.
